After the End
by ThereBeDragons17
Summary: After TATM, after World War 2, Amy and Rory return to London. There, in 1969, they run into the 10th Doctor and Martha during the events of Blink. Amy/Rory


**A/N: This takes place after The Angels Take Manhattan from Amy and Rory's point of view, but just before/during Blink for the Doctor and Martha. Sorry I've been gone for so long, but this is a long fic! Well. Long is relative. I have the attention span of a sparrow, so for me this is long. Enjoy!**

* * *

It was at Amy's suggestion that they visited London.

They knew that they had to die in America. They had to wind up buried in that cemetery overlooking Manhattan. As Rory suggested, they could move back to England and then back to America again sometime before he turned 82 and died. It was, he explained often, incredibly unnerving to know exactly how long you had to live. Amy did not have that luxury. She had been around after the angel had rocketed Rory back into the past, seen the death date newly written on the tombstone, but there hadn't been anyone left behind after her departure to tell her how long she lived. She hoped it wasn't too much longer than Rory.

Anyway, they had been planning to return to London until Amy had pointed out that in a few years World War II would be ravaging the European mainland and bombs would rain down on England. That effectively kept Rory and Amy away, even though both would have liked to return home.

Manhattan in the 1930s is less glorious than Manhattan in the 2010s, because of the smog, the smell, and the repercussions of the Great Depression. Amy likes it less than London because it's so _big._ Well, London isn't exactly small, but New York is a different kind of gigantic; the Big Apple goes upward where London goes outward. As a result, London feels cozy where New York feels suffocating. Even this early there are many blocks where it's hard to see the sky. When she mentions this to Rory, he suggests that they go to Central Park, which proves not quite nature-y enough to bother Amy and not quite urban enough to be oppressive. Amy writes Melody Malone on the rocks where she, Rory, and the Doctor will have a picnic sometime many decades in the future, then gets it published while they wait for the war to end. She and Rory collaborate on the end note to send to the Doctor.

World War 2 comes and goes and as soon as they deem it safe (or, as soon as Rory decides enough time has passed for the Germans to have stopped bombing London- neither of them can remember the date and they don't want to take any chances) they book tickets on a ship bound for England.

They adopt a baby boy in 1946 and name him Anthony. Amy is so protective of him that other mothers give her strange looks when she refuses to let them hold him. Rory explains that their daughter, Melody, was taken from them and Amy won't let it happen again.

They move to London in 1947 and there they stay and grow old. There are many things Amy has trouble adjusting to: the terrible fashion sense, the absence of more common medicines, and the lack of Internet and all of the wonderful things it provided. Rory, being a nurse, opens a practice and, with his anachronistic (although not in the typical sense of the word) knowledge of medicine makes more than a reasonable sum of money. They attend the 1948 Olympic Games and watch the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II on their first television.

They know that they will never see the Doctor again. He had told Amy just as much. He couldn't travel back to New York, not for a long time, and even if he did manage it they weren't there anymore. If they had stayed, after all, the chances of finding him would have been one in a trillion. Here, in London, they're happy. Happier.

In 1969 they're old. Well, old by Amy's standards, but Rory knows that he's going to live until 82, and Amy often teases him that he still has a ways to go. They're walking home from the theater one night, arm in arm, taking back streets to avoid the pedestrian traffic and talking about Anthony, who's just gotten a job at a law firm in New York. He's twenty-three and having him has eased their pain of completely losing the Doctor and River.

It's during a lull in their conversation that they hear it. From a nearby warehouse there's a whirring, clicking, then a _ding!ding!ding!_ that sounds less like a doorbell and more like a robot. Both Ponds (or Williamses) stand still. These sounds were not all that rare in the 2010s, given the number of electronics, but in the 1960s nothing that exists makes them.

"It's not _working!"_ protests a somewhat whiny, slightly high but still obviously masculine voice.

"Well, hitting it on the ground isn't going to make the thing spin again, will it?" replies a rich, young, female voice.

"It's not the spinny bit I'm worried about. It's the dinging thing. It's supposed to ding when there's stuff, not when there isn't stuff, because what's the point then?"

"Doctor, I know. We can fix it on the way, can't we? We need to get moving again."

"Ah, yeah, I suppose. You know, my friend tried to build one of these once. His was rather more impressive—it could download comic books from two galaxies away— but it was bad news for any chicken that was near it. I told him it was a calibration error, but he—"

"Doctor!"

"Right! Right, come on, Martha! What're you still standing there for?"

There's the sound of running footsteps, and through the gap between the two doors to the warehouse slips an incredibly thin man, although he's somewhat made up for his size with a long overcoat. He's holding a device the size of a portable radio in front of him, although it appears to be a compilation of a clock, a phone, a film reel, a postcard, and the handle of an iron, with many wires connecting all the pieces (even the plastic ones). The man is taking off his glasses as he wiggles through the gap in the doors and is so preoccupied with trying to tuck them into the inner pocket of his coat with one hand that he doesn't notice Amy and Rory at first.

"Oh hello!" he says when he does spot them, smiling distractedly. "I'm just… I mean we're… yeah… um…."

"Going," suggests the pretty, dark skinned woman who follows him through the opening. "Aren't we, Doctor?"

"Well, there's no need to be rude, Martha," says the man. He holds out his hand, realizes that it's the one with the strange device in it, holds out his other hand, realizes that people don't shake left handed, and gives up. "I'm the Doctor, this is Martha, and we're scientists1"

He says this very enthusiastically, like a five year old might announce his Halloween costume.

"Doctor who?" Amy asks, but there's no question in her voice. This man is the Doctor. He doesn't know them yet, she assumes, but there's no mistaking him. He looks so happy, she thinks, with a funny coat, a malfunctioning device, and a friend to help him along the way.

"Just… just the Doctor," he says, the enthusiasm fading as he looks at her suspiciously. "You already knew that, didn't you?"

"I knew you," Amy says.

"Ah, _we_ knew you," Rory corrects. Bickering in front of the Doctor. It feels like no time at all has passed. It's strange, Amy thinks, how easily they slip back into their roles.

"I suppose I'll meet you sometime in the future, then?" the Doctor asks, scrutinizing them.

"With a different face," Amy confirms. "In a different time. With twenty minutes until the world ends."

"I'll look forward to it," the Doctor says, undaunted. Then, looking slightly worried, "I do save the world, don't I?"

"Spoilers," she teases.

"Amy," Rory chastises gently. "That's River's line."

There's silence for a moment as the Doctor wonders how to take that. Then, with a clicking sound, the device in his hand begins to ding again.

"Ah!" He cries, picking it up and whacking the bottom. "It's sorted itself out! Just having a little temper tantrum. And there's _stuff!_ We're all set, Martha, we'll have the TARDIS back in no time. We just have to find Mr. Shipton and give him the message for Sally, and they should be able to get past the Weeping Angels and send the old girl back to us."

Rory shudders. "I hate Weeping Angels."

The Doctor stares, then literally shrugs it off. "Is there anything I should know about you two?"

"Not yet," Amy said. "All in good time. Go run off and do whatever ridiculous save-the-world adventure you're on now. But Doctor— thank you."

"What for?" he asked, bewildered. "I haven't done anything."

"But you will do," Rory said.

"And time… time hasn't been… well, I lot has happened, and I don't think that I ever actually said it. So thank you, and remember it," Amy pleased.

The Doctor looks Amy full in the face, and for a second she thinks that he can see past the wrinkles and the weary, age-stained eyes to the young woman who he will run away with on her wedding night. Or perhaps he sees even farther back, to the girl she was when they first met.

"I will," he promises.

The he grabs Martha's hand, and they're running off into the dark night, leaving Amy and Rory standing alone in the back street.

It begins to rain.


End file.
